


Day 5 - Stanford AU

by Sang_argente



Series: samifer love week 2016 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (of a sort), (or is it???), Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Stanford Era, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sang_argente/pseuds/Sang_argente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam is broke, lonely, and desperate and Lucifer takes advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 5 - Stanford AU

College sucks. It's true, no matter how much Sam tries to pretend otherwise. Yes, he managed a full ride to fricking Stanford, but the bright side ends there. His classes are either stuff he's learned a thousand times or stuff he doesn't understand at all. He never gets any sleep, never gets enough to eat, never gets any peace. There's always something or someone or somewhere to do or see or be. He doesn't have any friends and he's pretty sure his roommate hates him.

It's the life he's lived for eighteen years but somehow worse. Maybe it's because he doesn't have Dean. Maybe it's because of the pit in his stomach that tells him if he doesn't get this right, he'll never manage anything on his own. He wishes his brother was here. He wishes he'd never had a brother at all. At least then he'd have practice taking care of himself. And he wouldn't sit around waiting for a call that's never going to come, not after that last night.

But it's manageable. It is.

Until midterms hit second semester and everyone around him is excited to go home and Sam realizes, for the first time, that he doesn't have a home to go back to. Sure, it crossed his mind at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but then he could just pretend he was staying at school to keep up. He can't really do that for the summer.

He spends the next few weeks somewhere between panic and depression, sometimes wavering back and forth and sometimes numb to it all. He gets depressed and his work suffers until he starts panicking about not having somewhere to go for the _rest of his life_ instead of just summer. He panics about finding a place until he remembers a random motel he was at with Dean once and gets depressed. Most days he shoves it all down as deep as it can go.

He's out of money for just about everything, not getting paid well at his third shift diner job. The only thing he keeps spending money on is his weekly coffee. He has to walk a mile and some change because he can't afford the bus to the indie hole in the wall place he found his second week at school. The coffee cost almost three dollars a cup but it's the only good thing he's got left and he's not giving it up.

It takes about ten minutes but Sam's is a complicated order and the place is full. By the time he's sequestered in a corner with his coffee in hand, he's already wishing he'd just stayed at the dorm. It's nothing new and he knows if he waits the rush will die down until it's just a comfortable level of white noise. Then, he can work on his essay, drink his coffee, and walk back. It's been his routine for every Friday since he's been at Stanford, not counting the one where he had the flu or the one where he went out of town for a salt and burn. Sure, he hates hunting but he's not going to just ignore people _dying_.

What has never been part of his routine is the tall, blonde-haired blue-eyed model grinning at him sheepishly and asking to share his table.

“Uh, sure,” Sam stammers, watching the man drop his bag and get settled in. The bag is the same sort of worn out duffle he keeps under his bed and he wonders, for a moment, how a guy with a bag like that can afford to stop at a place like this. Then he remembers _he's_ a guy like that, using his last few dollars to have one nice thing damn it and tries to push the assumptions away. He's so focused on it, in fact, that he misses what the man says next. “Sorry?”

“I said ‘how's the coffee’,” the man repeats, before smiling teasingly. “If something worth that much whipped cream can even be called coffee.”

“It can!” Sam snaps defensively. Then, because he feels like that was rude, he pulls the cup close to his chest, as if to fend the man off, before confessing, “And it's delicious.”

The man laughs, something so soft and unused sounding that Sam's heart aches. “Well, then I have to try it.”

He reaches out as if to take Sam's and Sam slaps his hand away playfully.

“Get your own,” he commands, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“I would,” the man says as he leans in and lowers his voice, like he's telling Sam a secret. “Except I don't know what it is.”

Heat creeps into Sam's cheeks and he pulls away, looking around the considerably less crowded shop. He catches the barista’s attention and smiles. 

“Hey, Becky,” he calls, lifting his cup and shaking it a little. “One more?”

She smiles back and nods, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Sure thing, Sam!”

He turns back to his companion with a grin that falls away in confusion when he notices the man's blue eyes have gone hard.

“Friend of yours, _Sam_?” The guy asks, his voice just a little too sharp.

Something about the way he says Sam's name, like he knew it before Becky ever said it, makes the blood rush in Sam's veins. He shakes his head. “Not really. I just come here a lot.”

“I see,” he says in that still too sharp tone before relaxing. “Well, Sam, call me Luc.”

“Luc. Short for anything?” Sam asks innocently, stretching a hand across the table for an introductory shake.

Luc grabs his hand firmly, but in an odd way, almost like he's caressing it. He keeps a tight hold on it as he says, “You're not overly religious, are you?”

Sam shakes his head and Luc’s smile stretches ever wider. He leans forward, their hands tangled on the table between them.

“It's short for Lucifer,” he says in a perfectly innocent voice, but his eyes are laughing.

Resisting the urge to snatch his hand away, although it really is far past the polite length of a handshake, Sam reviews the facts. He's nearly broke in his weekend coffee shop holding hands with a gorgeous man named after the most well known villain in history.

This could end one of two ways. Either Sam is headed for the best weekend hookup of his young life or he's about to meet the end of his young life and quickly.

Before he can draw up the courage to just ask, Becky comes by the table with Lucifer's coffee.

“Here you go!” She chirps, giving Lucifer the same sparkling grin she gave Sam. “You guys looked a little busy so I brought it to you.’

This gets Lucifer to smile up at her, pulling his hand away from Sam. “Thank you, Becky.”

“No problem,” she calls over her shoulder as she goes back to work.

“What is happening?” Sam asks under his breath, his hands now trembling in his lap.

“It really is delicious,” Lucifer mutters distractedly, looking down into his cup before raising his burning gaze to focus on Sam. “It's simple. You're in a horrible position and I'm here to answer your prayers.”

“I didn't pray to you!” Sam spits out, near hysterical.

Lucifer watches him with a sympathetic smile. “Didn't you?”

Sam thinks back over the last month or so, the long days with little food or conversation and the even longer nights where he just laid in bed begging _please someone help me i don't want to die right now_. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to calling Dean and begging to come get him.

“What do you suggest?” Sam asks, voice tight to keep it from shaking like the hands he's wrapped around his cup.

“Spend the weekend with me,” Lucifer proposes. “I'll take care of you, I'll give you everything you need, I won't hurt you. If it works out alright, spend the summer with me.”

It's a tempting offer, but there's so much Sam doesn't know. “Why me?”

Lucifer smirks, something sad and longing that curves his lips. “Do you want me to tell you that I've been stalking you and know everything there is to know about you? Or would you prefer I say something about how I saw you sitting here and thought you looked nice enough to spend the weekend with and I was willing to lie for it?”

“Just tell me something true,” Sam begs, looking up at Lucifer pleadingly. All his instincts are screaming at him to get the fuck out of here and run far far away, but something is keeping him here. “Or close to it.”

“Alright,” Lucifer nods, reaching out to grab Sam's hand and tangle their fingers together. It's like he expects Sam will be able to feel the truth in his touch. “I've been locked away in a prison for a very long time until a friend of mine who knows you in passing only told me how miserable you are. I begged for my Father to see me, to give me forgiveness, so I could be let out. When he agreed, I came straight to California and got set up with everything I thought you might need or want. Then I spent my time seeking you out. I finally found you, Sam.”

There's something in the way he says _finally_ that makes something in Sam's soul burn. That coupled with being named Lucifer and the whole story makes Sam come to conclusions that, frankly, terrify him. Instead he pushes them away, an expert at ignoring things, and nods.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I'll go with you.”

“Yes?” Lucifer asks, excitement and relief practically shining out of his eyes.

“Yes.”

\-----

Lucifer's apartment is nice. It's comfortable and clean, something Sam hasn't seen a lot of in his life. He sets his backpack on the floor by the couch and slips off his shoes.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Lucifer says teasingly but when Sam turns to look at him, his face is serious.  
“Alright,” Sam agrees. He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his beaten cell phone. “You don't mind if I make a quick call, do you?”

“Not at all,” Lucifer smiles. “I understand you want to let Dean know, just in case.”

“You really do know everything about me,” Sam mutters as he turns away. He punches in the number he's had running in the back of his mind all year. 

_“This is Dean. If you're calling this number, you know what to do.”_

“Hey, Dean,” Sam says, struggling to speak around the lump in his throat. It's been almost a year since he's talked to his brother and when he does it's to leave a message like this. “I, uh, I guess you're busy. I just wanted to let you know I...I miss you. Just in case I don't talk to you for a while, I guess. Bye. Jerk.”

He hangs up and turns the phone off before bending down to slip it into his backpack. He doesn't want the added stress this weekend.

“How about dinner?” Lucifer asks from behind him.

Sam turns to see him standing in the doorway. Something about the casual way he's resting against the frame makes Sam smile affectionately, which would be weird except at this point Sam has pretty much accepted that he's spending the weekend with this stalker/sugar daddy/soulmate he found.

“Sure.”

They eat dinner, tender steaks with salad on the side. It's the best thing Sam's had in a while, maybe ever, and he doesn't even care that it was delivered. Lucifer admitted that he wasn't much of a cook.

The night slips by slowly as dinner is followed by lengthy conversations that leave Sam wondering where Lucifer really comes from. He seems to know everything about anything since the beginning of time. Sam decides he doesn't care and starts to plot out how to keep Lucifer from ever leaving.

Around dawn, they finally decide to go to bed. It's a little awkward at first, sharing a bed with someone who is a stranger but not really. They make it work though, with Lucifer tucked up to Sam's back, his arm thrown over him and holding tight.

It's the most refreshing sleep Sam has had all year. He can't wait to do it again the next night.

**Author's Note:**

> for hey--cassbutt on tumblr for samifer love week


End file.
